


Sunday Pancake Tradition

by chugster



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Pancakes, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chugster/pseuds/chugster
Summary: Wednesday is the perfect day to start a Sunday pancake tradition.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like there should be a warning for graphic description of pancakes with this one..

There’s a distinct lack of Steve in Steve’s bed when Danny wakes up. They wrapped their latest case two days ago on Monday, spent the entire Tuesday neck deep in paperwork and now it’s their first day off in two weeks, so naturally Steve should be there within Danny’s reach as soon as he’s had his ten hours. Surely that’s not too much to ask.

Of course in an ideal world Danny would wake up wrapped around Steve every single morning of every single day but alas, this is not a thing that happens very often. Unfortunately Steve’s idea of a perfect morning is waking up at stupid o’clock to run in the ocean for hours whereas Danny would rather start his day four hours later with at least two mugs of coffee and a couple of slices of toast, not the god-awful smoothies Steve prefers. Add the adrenaline fuelled madness they call work into the equation and it’s almost impossible to have slow, easy mornings together.

_Almost_ being the operative word here, since it’s actually happened once or twice now. These rare occasions have left Danny convinced that there is an ultimate way to start a day, and it is with a squinty-eyed, gravel-voiced Steve beaming a lopsided smile at him and making sly remarks about his floofy morning hair. This would inevitably lead to sleepy affectionate morning sex, which, while awesome in every way, would only be a close second to the sleepy affectionate morning cuddles that would follow.

Danny, being a very tactile person, hoards his morning cuddles with the single-mindedness of someone who knows what it’s like to go without and doesn’t like it one bit.

Luckily for him, so does Steve.

There’s nothing for it; if Danny wants morning cuddles, he needs to leave the bedroom to get some. A sorry state of affairs, it truly is, but there you have it. No Steve means no cuddles, so the first thing on his morning agenda is to find Steve.

With a heartfelt sigh he heaves himself off the warm comfort of their shared bed and pads barefooted across the room, only half awake before his morning coffee. He opens the bedroom door and is immediately pushed into wakefulness by a sweet scent of pancakes that hits him like a well-meaning freight train. He can hear butter sizzling on a hot pan, and there’s someone – _Steve_?– humming.

Danny wasn’t even aware that Steve was capable of using the stove without burning the entire kitchen to the ground, let alone using it to make mouth-wateringly delicious-smelling pancakes.

In fact, he recalls a time when Steve had tried to impress him with popcorns, when the kitchen towel had caught on fire and triggered the alarm. Steve had been so busy assuring the firemen everything was under control that he’d forgotten the smoldering popcorns, which had led to a close call with fire number two. Needless to say Danny had thought it best for the entire neighborhood if Steve and the stove maintained a safe distance after that incidence.

There’s definitely nothing burning now, though, and Danny’s stomach makes a noise of approval at the thought of digging into a stack of warm, fluffy pancakes served with a hefty dose of butter and maple syrup. He follows his nose downstairs and into the kitchen.

The smell of freshly made pancakes is thick in the air and it sticks to the roof of Danny’s mouth. Steve has a ladle in one hand and a pan in the other, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and the soft tee he sleeps in, having chosen actual breakfast over green smoothies and the ocean today for Danny’s benefit. Despite having heard Danny practically run down the stairs and aware of the way he’s now just standing in the doorway staring at him, Steve seems comfortable to carry on regardless of Danny’s presence.

Pausing for a moment to admire the domestic picture Steve makes, Danny’s mouth waters for an entirely different reason. Who knew _domestic_ translated directly to _sexy_ in Danny’s lizard brain? Or maybe it’s just Steve. To be honest it probably is just Steve and Danny’s just a romantic sap way in over his head but Danny chooses to leave that thought for later.

Because now there’s Steve who flips pancakes over with unnerving skill and is distracting Danny from rational thought in a multitude of ways. It might be just his empty belly making him emotional, but seeing Steve like this makes Danny’s heart swell with emotion. He steps forward and puts his hands on Steve as soon as he’s within grabbing distance, slides his palms across the expanse of soft cotton and pulls the man into a tight hug.

“Morning,” Danny says with a slightly sleep-rough voice. Steve makes a happy sounding sigh and relaxes into the touch, which encourages Danny to give in and do the same. Steve’s shoulder blade does make a wonderful pillow.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Steve replies, and then after a while of mutual leaning and Danny almost drifting off to sleep, “There’s blueberry pancakes if you want some.”

Apparently these are the magic words guaranteed to get through to Danny’s slumber. “Damn right I want some,” he quickly agrees. He moves over to get a piece of pancake from the plate Steve’s been stacking them, his other hand curling onto Steve’s side.

“Aw, man,” Danny says, his appreciation only slightly muffled by pancake. “These are delicious. You’ve been holding out on me, Steven.”

“And here I was thinking I’ve put out quite regularly recently,” Steve says with a grin that lights up his entire face, the smug bastard.

“Not with the pancakes you haven’t. You know I love pancakes. How do you even- I mean wow.”

The edges are a delicious crunch and the blueberries a fresh burst of tangy sweetness on Danny’s tongue, the batter so soft that it practically melts in his mouth. “I could write sonnets about the pure perfection of these blueberry pancakes. Ode to Pancake, I would call them, and yes, all of them, starting with Part the First and continuing from there. You can expect me to hit Part the Thirty-seven by noon.”

“Glad you like them, Danno,” Steve says, best pleased from the way he’s ducking his head and trying not to smile too much. Danny doesn’t know whether to kiss the man silly or smack him across the back of his head to make him understand the depth of his love for pancakes, torn between two equally appealing options.

“ _Like_ them?” he asks incredulously, because that’s a winning candidate for the Understatement of the Year Awards. “Steve, I _adore_ them. I worship the shrub that grew these blueberries, the field that gave the grain to the flour, the chicken that laid the eggs and the cow that gave the milk but most importantly, _you_ for bringing it all together. They are divine and I’m officially ruined for other pancakes. This-“ he says with a sweeping set of gestures that encompass Steve,  the sizzling pan, the bowl of batter and the small stack of pancakes- “is a roaring success.”

“Thanks, man.”

“So what’s the secret recipe, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Steve’s poker face never falters as he turns over his shoulder to quickly glance at Danny. “It’s Doris’s and it’s classified.”

“Are you kidding me?” Danny replies, barely avoiding rolling his eyes at Steve’s ridiculous face. “No, what am I saying, it’s your mother, of course it is classified.”

“It’s a family recipe. You know: some milk, some flour, couple of eggs, then a pinch of salt, sugar, vanilla, a little baking powder… Of course blueberries-”

“No, Steven, just hold on a second,” Danny interrupts. “You’re saying you’re measuring these ingredients by _some_ or _pinch_? You look me in the eye and tell me you don’t use measuring spoons for that.”

“What can I say, Danny, I’m a man of many talents and one of them is knowing exactly how much flour is _some_ flour. Doris taught me that. Also how to fold the batter _just so_ that you don’t squish the blueberries, which is very important,” Steve explains as he slides a finished pancake onto the plate and then ladles more batter onto the pan.

“Sure, absolutely, okay,” Danny nods while watching Steve handle the pan.

“Otherwise you’ll get purple pancakes.”

“And who would want purple pancakes, right? Not me, definitely no,” Danny agrees, just a little too fast judging from Steve’s eyebrows. “What? Purple food is awesome.”

“You think pineapple is unnatural but anything purple is awesome?”

“Don’t question my logic, Steven. Pancake is pancake even if it’s purple. And pineapple is fine as long as it comes in a can and doesn’t end up in my pizza.”

“Your brain is a marvel, Danny, it truly is.”

“Did Doris by any chance teach you any other delicious recipes while she wasn’t busy being a top secret super-agent for the CIA?” Danny says, inconspicuously changing the subject.

“Well you’ve met her,” Steve shrugs, shaking the pan and lifting the edge of the pancake to check its color.

Meanwhile, Danny pilfers a freshly made pancake from the pile with very little shame. “I have.”

“She has a talent when it comes to few selected breakfast foods but she’s no MasterChef,” Steve explains, choosing his words carefully.

“So you’re saying setting dinner on fire is a long standing tradition in your family.”

This surprises a puff of laughter from Steve. “There have been a few incidents, yes,” he admits. Danny doesn’t doubt that for a moment.

“And the solution is what? To survive only on breakfast and take away?” Danny asks and moves back from the plate of very tempting pancakes to snuggle against an equally tempting Steve. Snuggles are practically vertical cuddles and they totally count as a morning cuddle, which is ultimately what Danny got out of bed for today. No amount of pancakes could distract him from Steve for long, no matter how perfect they were.

Steve readily accommodates Danny and slugs an arm around his shoulders. Danny breaths in the scent of Steve and pancakes and feels the warm morning breeze from the open patio doors mix together with the heat of the stove, and catches himself thinking of this too hot, too humid and far too laid-back an island as _home_.

Standing there in Steve’s kitchen, happily munching on a blueberry pancake, he doesn’t miss New Jersey one bit. It’s not the sort of earth-shattering revelation Danny had been half-dreading, half-expecting to hit him at some point, but a smaller one that settles a persistent shrapnel of home-sickness that he hadn’t even known he still carried. Right now his home is not five thousand miles away but here, in Hawaii, with Steve.

“The solution is to have a significant other who does the cooking for you, and then practice one recipe to perfection so you can use it to charm and/or apologize to them every once in a while,” Danny hears Steve tell him. “Because sooner or later you’re going to need all the help you can get with that.”

Danny clears his throat, still a little lost in the idea of _home_. “Wise words from your mother. Am I the significant other in this scenario?”

Steve takes a long look at Danny. “Are you or are you not impressed by the pancakes?” he then asks.

“Absolutely,” Danny answers with a disarming smile.

“Okay, then,” Steve says like they’ve just agreed on something important. Danny nudges Steve with his hip and reaches over to take one last piece of a pancake. This time definitely the last one.

“You should start doing this more often. Start a tradition. I’m thinking Sunday pancake tradition, you in?”

“You do know it’s Wednesday today, Danny.”

“I do, but how often do we realistically have Wednesdays off, huh?” Danny says, swallows, and then makes a sharp hand-wave across the kitchen with his half eaten piece of pancake. ”You see how little this resembles our office? The lack of glass walls, no desks overflowing with case files, no fancy touch-screen table? This is a highly unusual Wednesday morning we have, here, Steven, and therefore a Wednesday pancake tradition is an awful idea. I’d never get pancakes again if we went with that.”

Danny polishes off what’s left of his pancake and concludes with, “And besides, Sunday’s only a couple of days away now. Wednesday is the perfect day to start a Sunday pancake tradition.”

“I have to say you make a convincing point, Danny,” Steve says, adding yet another finished pancake onto the plate. He mixes the batter a little before carefully pouring it onto the pan where it sizzles furiously, the edges turning golden in seconds. Danny’s all but drooling but manages to find his focus again, despite Steve distracting him with his skilled hands and comfy shoulders and unexpected cooking talents. If Danny didn’t know any better, he might think Steve’s doing it on purpose but no. The man is a menace without even trying.

Danny turns and steps up on his toes, kissing Steve’s skin where he can reach it, which happens to be just above his t-shirt collar. “Tell you what?” he suggests, planting the words on Steve’s skin. “Make me pancakes on Sundays and I promise to make it worth your while.”

“Yeah?” Steve says, grinning wide like he knows where this is going and is fully on board with anything Danny might come up with. He leaves the pancake and turns to Danny, leaning his back against the kitchen counter and looping both arms around Danny’s waist. “And exactly how were you planning on doing that, Detective Williams?”

It’s the first time Danny’s gotten Steve’s full attention today and he’s going to make the most of what he can steal away from the pancake that is his only competition. “Sexual favors for Sunday pancakes, that’s the general idea,” Danny says and stretches against Steve like a cat, taking his touch-starved hands on a trip under Steve’s tee and letting him feel the effect he’s having on Danny, pressing his hardening cock against Steve to find him just as hard as he is. Steve’s hands are on Danny’s ass and he pulls him in, almost lifting him off the floor in enthusiasm.

Danny holds his ground and kisses Steve for a few frantic moments but then a thought crosses his mind and he has to speak up, “Actually? Now that I think of it, sex does not work for this.”

“No?” Steve asks, clearly struggling to find anything he’d rather trade his pancake-making skills for. They are still close enough that Danny feels Steve’s heartbeat through his chest, close enough to melt Steve’s confusion away with a look.

“None of the things I have in mind are ones I wouldn’t happily do even without the promise of pancakes,” Danny explains with a small smile. “No, what I need is something with actual leverage. Foot rubs? Paperwork? Anything you want, or you know, I promise to keep an open mind. No running at five am or surf lessons,” he says with a stern look up at Steve.

Steve blinks at him for a bit, thrown off-kilter by Danny insisting to negotiate about pancakes instead of focusing on the sexual favors they could be trading right now. “Wait, are we talking about Sunday pancakes or additional pancakes?” he asks.

“Are you saying Sunday pancakes is a thing?” Danny counters.

“I think, you know, traditions are a good thing, so we could definitely give it a shot. And obviously I’m not gonna say no to sex, but you don’t have to bribe me into Sunday pancakes, Danny. I’ll make you pancakes, fear not. But extra favors for extra pancakes, yes?” he says and combs his fingers through Danny’s hair, probably getting flour all over it but Danny doesn’t give a damn. Flour washes off, Steve’s fingers are magic on his scalp.

Danny closes his eyes and maybe doses off for a few blissful seconds. “I’ll be sure to remember what you said about doing my paperwork, though,” Steve says, which brings Danny back to the here and now.  “I might well be the one bribing you with pancakes, not the other way round.” His hand drops from Danny’s hair to his neck to cupping his jaw and smoothing over Danny’s morning stubble with his thumb.

“ _Some_ of your paperwork, and only occasionally, but deal,” Danny says and leans into Steve’s touch, but then sees the opportunity to tease and smirks. “As traditions go, I still like Sexual Favors for Sunday Pancakes better. Not Gonna Say No to Sex for Sunday Pancakes, that’s quite a mouthful. Not very catchy at all.”

He slides his hands back down to Steve’s hips and to his cock trapped between their bodies, giving Steve some much needed friction before he can come up with a coherent reply. “Just out of curiosity, how do you feel about sexual favors on Wednesday mornings?”

“In general?” Steve asks and pulls Danny in for a quick kiss. Soon enough the kiss turns dirty and one turns into several, but after the initial hunger has shifted into something smaller, more intimate, Danny can put together enough brain cells to answer,

“No, Steve, not in general,” he says with another small kiss,

“ _Now_ ,” another kiss,

“Or, you know, after you’re finished with the pancakes,” he finishes with a shit eating grin.

“The pancakes!” Steve jumps and turns to flip the one on the pan over. And yes, sure, it’s a darker shade of brown than the rest, but to Danny it’s still perfectly edible.

Another thing that falls into that category is right there in front of him, and if Danny were a stronger person he’d surely be able to resist having his hands all over it. Sadly, when it comes to touching Steve, Danny has very little self-control.

The next pancake lands somewhat less steadily on the pan with Danny having two handfuls of Steve’s ass to play with.

“So definitely only after I’ve finished making all of the pancakes?” Steve asks a moment later, slightly out of breath, knuckles white on the kitchen counter. Danny can’t resist tugging Steve’s underwear half way down, exposing a strip of soft pale skin and bending over to have a little taste.

“What are you suggesting?” he prompts Steve and presses his hand deep down between the boxer-covered ass cheeks, pushing in with his palm to hear Steve muffle a curse into his arm. Danny calms himself by resting his forehead against Steve’s back.

“I had a vision of your mouth on my ass, but-”

“-if I kneeled on the floor I’d be stuck with the cane for days after, so that’s a regretful no.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” Steve sounds wrecked but widens his stance to encourage Danny with his increasingly obscene massage. The thought of having his mouth on Steve’s ass makes Danny a little desperate.

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s a compelling vision; we just need to wait a bit to make it happen. How much batter you’ve got left?” Danny asks, his practical approach only slightly undermined by the hard line of his dick pressing insistently into the back of Steve’s thigh.

“Less than half of it.”

“We could put it in the fridge and come back to it later. Grab the ones we’ve got and make a run for it. Have breakfast in bed. How’s that for a plan?”

“Yes? Yes.” Steve kisses like he’s making a point, an offer wrapped into a demand and then licked into Danny’s mouth, peppered against his lips and pressed against his tongue in a sharply worded promise. It turns filthy very fast and by the end of it they’re both clinging to each other and panting for breath. Steve pulls back enough to say, “Okay, let’s do this.”

“Awesome,” Danny says, dazed. “What are we doing?”

“Breakfast in bed,” Steve kindly reminds him, taking a step back and carefully adjusting his boxers. “Among other things.”

Danny watches Steve saunter –because dammit, the man saunters every time he knows Danny’s watching–to the fridge and put the bowl of batter away before Danny manages to get it together. Then he snaps out of it and springs into action. “Right. Breakfast. So I’ll get the maple syrup and the – okay, what’s with the face, Steve?”

Oddly enough, Steve seems almost offended. “Blueberry pancakes, Danny. You can’t have them with syrup,” he explains to him like syrup was sacrilege.

“Uh-uh. Okay, I’ll bite. What do you have them with, Steve?”

“Ice cream?” Steve offers, “We have some in the freezer. Vanilla.”

Danny’s face lights up, because isn’t that the greatest idea ever? “That’s- yes. Forget the syrup, we’re having ice cream.” He makes a beeline for the freezer and grabs the tub of vanilla while Steve flips the last pancake to the plate, turns the heat off and takes the plate upstairs with him. An idea strikes Danny and he reaches for the bottle of maple syrup on the way out.

He leaves the bottle and the tub next to the pancakes on the night stand. The smell is nothing short of heavenly.

“Danny,” Steve asks when he sees what Danny brought with him. “What’s with the syrup?”

“Don’t worry, Steve,” Danny says and all but leers at the poor confused man, ”The syrup is not for the pancakes.” He watches Steve and waits for the other shoe to drop.

“Oh.”

It’s a glorious sight.

“That’s thinking outside the box, that is,” Steve says, yanking his tee up and off and unceremoniously dropping his boxers to the floor.

Danny wastes no time in following Steve to the bed, clothes gone in record time. “Yup. Clearly you’re a bad influence.”

“I’m the best influence. You could even say-” Steve pauses for effect.

“Steve, no.” Trying to act tough while there’s a naked Steve spread across the sheets and smiling up at Danny like he hung the moon is proving a challenge. Nothing he can’t handle, though.

“-you could even say that I’m rubbing off on you,” Steve continues, pulling Danny in on top of him, landing a nuzzling kiss in his hair and looping one of his long legs over Danny like a spider monkey. Danny caves in. Almost.

“Okay, yes, fine. _You_ could. Doesn’t mean _I_ would.”

“ _And after you’d said it_ , I would reply-”

Danny cuts Steve off with a hand on his mouth. “You will not come up with a hilarious pun about rubbing off, not while you’re actually rubbing yourself off against me.”

Steve lets out an indignant sound, which Danny ignores.

“Because if you would,” he continues, “I would be forced to reply that _it’s not very funny_ , and nobody likes to hear that they’re not funny in the middle of sex. Nobody. Including you. Trust me.”

Steve knows better that to take offence. Instead he takes a hold of Danny’s wrist and licks a long wide strip across the palm. He sucks in two fingers, watching Danny watch him as he slowly takes the fingers in and pulls them out. He does it again and by the time Steve lets go of his hand, Danny’s almost painfully aroused. He lunges at Steve’s mouth, kissing him with everything he has. There’s comfort in knowing that Steve clings to him just as tightly as he does to Steve.

“It’s a little funny,” Steve says once he has enough breath to speak again. “You said it yourself, it’s hilarious.”

“You’re crazy and your sense of humor is terrible and I don’t know what I see in you,” Danny says with a helpless smile, because even now, tangled up in Steve, it feels absolutely impossible to say what he means, what he feels without turning it into a joke. He tries to make it up by pulling Steve in for another kiss or three.

“Now let’s see about making you less punny and more shouty, okay?” Rimming tends to make Steve a little unhinged in the best of ways, and it’s exactly how Danny needs Steve right now.

“Love you too, Danno,” Steve says. There’s a bright kiss with teeth in it before he turns to gather some pillows to smother the worst of the noises.

Danny tucks his grin into Steve’s spine on his way down.

\---

As it turns out Danny’s idea of a perfect morning is open to slight variations, up to and including Steve getting up early if it is to make him pancakes. Waking up without Steve would be highly compensated by eating said pancakes in bed with half-melted vanilla ice cream after several inspired rounds of morning sex with cuddles in between, with the creative use of maple syrup as an optional bonus.

Way to set the bar for next Sunday, that’s for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve and Danny are obviously not my characters, Hawaii five-0 is not my creation and I make no money playing with them. 
> 
> I don't know about you but writing this has put me in the mood for pancakes. :)


End file.
